Rebuilding My Ether

It's as if I'm rebuilding my whole life. Recently I bought a new computer, loaded with Windows XP. I then downloaded a file that XP disliked, so that every time I opened a Windows folder (anything in the Start menu) XP crashed itself. Don't ask me why.

Result was that I've had to reload Windows XP - which (for some strange reason) means that everything else on my computer has to be destroyed and rebuilt.

At the last count I had 82 different log-ins that required a password - fortunately I maintain all those at my Yahoo email account - it works with my BTInternet account, and means that I never download emails to my computer - and with spam and viris protection it works well. (enough advertising)

At present I'm looking at screen with huge type, and can't make the sound system work, but I do have the wireless network working - just can't carry my desktop around the house with any ease or convenience.

Combine the rebuild with installation of a wireless network (which didn't work until I allowed a guy in southern India to operate my computer remotely - ain't it marvellous) and the news that my grandchildren plan to come to stay with me and I'm in panic mode.

Slowly making www.lockwoods.co.uk a place to visit - you can sign-in there, and if you are really good (or controversial) I'll allow you to upload articles etc to the site.

An Idea

Have an idea - tell people about it - publish it on a blog, send out dozens of emails.

Nice people respond, 'Oh what a good idea, can I join in?'

Others want real information (from me?). How much will this be? If we can buy it as agricultural land it could be really cheap - if for housing - really expensive. How much land? As much as can be saved from the national housebuilders - those companies that have one set of plans (so that land-use can be maximised) that they use to build energy-greedy (but cheap to build) housing.

If this country had any sense it would insist that all new housing was both energy- efficient and able to create their own energy (by making the wife pedal a uni-cycle while doing the ironing and shouting at the kids).

It doesn't do that - it allows these builders to get away with what is (in effect) murder. By building such awful houses they create tomorrow's slums, increasing social stress, and increase the carbon load upon the world.

The world can take all this - no problem. It's people who will have the trouble.

To get back to the original bit about responses. Our beloved leaders have just ignored me. So, what's new?

Let's Build

Trinity College, Cambridge own a great swathe of land between Felixstowe and Ipswich, close to the villages of Trimley St Mary and Trimley St Martin.

Our council have just announced planning permission to build 2,700 houses on this land.

I wrote to the Master of Trinity some while ago suggesting he sell me 10 acres of this land, to be used for a community project that would build a variety of sustainable houses, and a community.

The reply I received was pleasant, but suggested I contact the local council, the East of England Development Agency etc.

That's what I now plan to do.

Anyone care to join in?

CMS: The Learning Curve

I've found something new - and so I'm wasting inordinate amounts of time (can time be an amount?) trying to make it all work.

It's a content management system (CMS), which uses a database to run web sites. Most old sites (like mine) are static pages. I make 'em, put them on the Web, you look at 'em. They don't change. With CMS I can split the page up into many small pieces, and then decide which piece will be displayed where, adding new items whenever I like, and others can add material as well - oh yes, I plan to involve you too!

It's very early days. I only got the stuff to work yesterday, at www.lockwoods.co.uk

You'll notice that many pages still talk about Joomla! see www.joomla.org This is Open Source software, and is to be highly recommended. Instead of one company offering you a product, in order to make a profit, open source is a collaborative effort, with many thousands of people: programmers, developers and users all making contributions, which they all share.

A similar system is Open Office, see http://www.openoffice.org/ which is an office suite to rival that bloke who made a lot of cash out of IBM all those years ago - what was his name? William Dawes? Can't remember.

Sorry to get technical - but I'm having great fun swimming through the treacle of instructions that rarely make much sense.

Shame

A shame that's the responsibility of a whole country.

No, I'm not talking about Israel, whose citizens should all be ashamed that when they attack foreign lands, killing innocents.

This shame is about England (I'm not sure what happens in the other, smaller, territories). England allows charities to run hospices for children. They don't really fund these places, relying instead upon National Lottery funds, which are little more than another tax upon the populace.

The East of England has three hospices for children. This year the National Lottery decided to withdraw funding. The hospices had wanted to expand, as there is an increasing demand. That's not possible.

Today I had a stall at the annual fete of EACH Lovely, well-meaning, people, many of whom had been directly touched by the death of a much-loved child. Not enough people attended. They will continue to struggle for money.

It's a national disgraces that a country cannot ease the passing of its own children, those kids whose life has been snatched away before they really understand what life is all about.

I told these people to stop collecting pennies by organising fetes and similar events. They should challenge their energies towards a concerted attack upon our politicians. They should picket their houses, ensure their demands are thrust down everyone's throats.

After all, who can deprive a dying child of anything they need? These little scraps will not be here for very long. The cost to the nation of lavishing love upon their shattered bodies and minds will be no more that a few of the missiles we were content to rain down upon Iraq just a few years ago.

Shame on you all.

Think of those dying children - and then go attack a politician - any politician

Mirrored Souls

There's been talk.

Even a suggestion that I'm making it all up!

It is, however, true. There are two Trevor Lockwood's. One who writes this Blog, another who lives in Barcelona, and often leaves comments on the Blog.

There's synchronicity, in that I also lived in Catalonia (often described as God's Own Country), before writing this Blog, which I now do from the decaying resort town of Felixstowe, in Suffolk, in the east of England (God's Other Country).

Both places have their attractions, and house swaps could well be in order - I'll get the allotment in proper shape first, and the house, and everything else before suggesting to the other TL that we should swop places. Perhaps we could also swop roles. He could fend off all my debtors, while I chatted up all his Catalan lovelies.

It's an idea that becomes increasingly attractive the more I muse upon it. When I last looked there were 26 Trevor Lockwood's shown on the Voter's Registers in England and Wales. Perhaps we should agglomerate, pool resources, shedding our collective debts and responsibilities. There are plenty of games we can play. responsibilities

The Learning Curve

Let's hope there is a life hereafter because a lifetime spent learning lessons will be such a waste if it all ends here. The real lessons learnt seem to be those that come from mistakes, those that produce that feeling of cringing embarrassment when recalled.

We should all make mistakes, and appreciate how much we learn as a result. Working within a disciplined service for much of my life has meant that I've taken a long time to learn. For too long I did as I was told, and later refused to do anything I was told. The pendulum swung too far away from the old ways. Perhaps now age is mellowing my acerbity.

Arrogant people, those who are convinced they know best, are to be avoided. Suicide bombers especially. As they push the button that blows them to eternity they do so believing that Allah will accept them as heroes, that they will live the perfect life for evermore.

It's a silly attitude to adopt, and very dangerous, particularly if you happen to be close to one of these misguided fools when they explode.

The wife of the first British suicide bomber (he killed himself at Mike's Bar in Israel) made a telling statement. She'd received a letter from her husband that told her he was leaving her, but that, later, they would meet in another life, and live together in perfect harmony. "He's got to be joking," she said, "if he thinks he can tell me he's leaving me and the children and then expect me to want to live with him in heaven."

He'd not really thought it out.

Anger

There's at least one reader of this blog that is angered by my writing. Hopefully it is always the same person, but perhaps not. In answer to the latest retort all I can say is that statistically, our beloved Councillor appears in the local press more frequently than any other councillor. My case rests, along with the old dogma about the exception proving the rule. Even I don't always get it right.

They are likely to get even angrier because I've decided to open my own web site as well, so www.lockwoods.co.uk (do note the 's') will grow over the coming months. Not sure why I need to do this - probably because I have an over-inflated ego, although I've not done much for myself - ever, so perhaps the time has come.

Summer's heat is making everything grow, and I'm having to eat even more to keep up with the produce coming from the allotment.

The Lost Sock

A community comes together when its members are involved together in a project. Over the last few months that's happened with 'The Lost Sock', a film produced by Felixstowe TV. This all started with an off-the-cuff remark made by Chris Gosling, the powerhouse behind Felixstowe TV, to the members of Felixstowe Scribblers, our local writers group.

Very quickly they came up with the outline of a script, and several people involved in local amateur dramatics were asked to appear. Filming began, producing 10-15 minute shorts that were displayed on the Felixstowe TV site.

The scripts were developed as the project moved along, and local companies started to get involved. Local shops provided locations, a car-hire firm provided vehicles and Felixstowe Port security even provided the 'heavies' to act as extras. All sorts of people became immersed in the project.

As each programme was screened at Felixstowe Tv interest grew, audience figures rose and it was decided to create a full-length movie.

Yesterday it was screened before a large audience at the 900-seat Spa Pavilion in Felixstowe. A full-length feature, lasting one hour 26 minutes. All this is a considerable achievement showing what can be done when people come together.

Some of the actors, all amateurs, were equal to anyone on commercial TV. There were mistakes, perhaps the dialogue was a bit confused at times, the sound quality could be improved, the camera angles chosen with more care. But it was still good entertainment and for a first attempt showed considerable potential.

The nameless local councillor as just one of many local people, organisattions and companies involved.

Looking forward to the next contribution from Felixstowe Films.

More info on The Lost Sock Saga

It's suggested that we all look at Episode 4 of the Lost Sock, which appeared on 18 February 2006. It records 'the seconds of infamy' (my informant's words not mine) of the lady councillor.

Look at the episode, or better still see the whole film at the Spa Pavilion on Sunday 9th July at 2pm. Click on the title of this Blog to get to Felixstowe TV.

The whole cast will be there, and rumours will circulate. This will be a time to enjoy the film and to ferret around, to play detective, to find out what really happened.

Hope to see you there.

It's a Wonderful Life

The sun is shining, although thunderstorms are promised (the allotment will be pleased).

My computers are playing up, rogue software loaded in error has upset Mr Gates and his team, and everything keeps crashing.

It makes me realise there is a world outside this darkened room. So today I enjoyed coffee and chocolate cake in the garden with friends, later washed down with a glass of English cider. Good conversation, warmth and food, what's missing? Hardly anything at all.

I'm amused by the comments this Blog attracts. Yesterday's was a local rhubarb about a councillor who was alleged to have spoken out of turn. One response says they are not going to reply to my farcical comments. Well, honey child, you just did.

Tonight will see me bent over my djembe drum. Perhaps that respondent would do well to go to a drumming class, where they can beat the hell out of their frustrations and enjoy themselves at the same time.

Life is short, sweetie pie. Don't attack - just learn to smile. It is fun.

Must make some raspberry ice-cream before drumming starts.

Local Gossip

Now, I'm not one to gossip!

But!

Our TV station has made a film, using a plot written by our local Felixstowe Scribblers writing group and local actors. Called The Lost Sock it will be shown at the local theatre next week. (click on the title of this piece to be taken to the site)

It was to be shown at the local cinema, but a councillor (she must remain nameless) who appears in the film commented upon the poor state of repair of the flea pit (it is dreadful).

The Irish owner of the place took exception to her remarks, and at the last minute withdrew his invitation to have the film screened at his cinema.

Panic set in.

Then our Chris, the Felixstowe TV man, managed to save the day, and there will now be a (free) screening at the Spa Pavilion on 9 July.

Our beloved councillor will no doubt be there, and will (no doubt) have her picture in the local newspapers the next day.

No reports are yet coming in about the feelings of the Irishman.

The film, which can be seen online, is said to be good in parts.

Whatever it's like it is a wonderful achievement, that shows what a small group of determined people can achieve.

If only our local council could be made to make use of their enthusiasm. Never mind, look out for her photo in the paper.

That's All Over

We are out of the World Cup. I say we, I mean England's football team is now out of the competition.

That failure is representative of the present state of England. We are ruled by Scots, and the mainstream guru on BBC TV is an arrogant, self-opinionated Scot. He was crowing with delight as he started to blame everyone he could once it was clear we had failed.

That a country of over 30 million people had to choose a foreigner, an uncharismatic but testosterone-filled Swede, was ludicrous. Particularly when the job, when done by Englishmen, had been regarded as a part-time activity commanding a very small salary. Our Sven has picked up 5 million a year, for over five years, and achieved no more than our gallant English part-timers.

Before the contest our 'star' player was injured. There was much fuss about whether he would be fit enough to play. That he'd never scored a goal in a World Cup tournament was considered irrelevant.

This allegedly talented player demonstrates all that is wrong about football. He's an aggressive, short-tempered yob whose paid far more than his intelligence, let alone his talent, justifies.

We had an alternative, a young man who had never played in a first-class game of football, let alone a World Cup. That he was the next-best choice shows how reliant the English football leagues have become upon foreign players. These expensive yet talented young men come to England, take £100,000 a week or more, and then go back home (with our money). They take much more. They take a detailed knowledge of the way we play football.

Our captain, David Beckham, has now resigned. His days may be numbered in any case. A new team is taking over at Real Madrid, with 160 million Euros to spend. Beckham's presence at Real has not gained them any trophies, and that may be the last straw.

Empires come and go, and the demise of our football team is indicative of the state of the country.

Meanwhile two more British soldiers are killed in Afghanistan fighting a war that has nothing to do with us. I mourn that tragic waste of young life.

The Shadows

It's great. If you look at 'Is Anyone Out There' - a few blogs back, there are now three comments. Not that any of them are considering anything I may have said (one does suggest I can be ignored). The pleasure is that they are now talking amongst themselves.

It all started with liars. Civilisation is the worse off because people lie. It was suggested it was the worst of the deadly sins.

Politicians are often labelled as liars, but I have just an edge of sympathy for them, because their time in office is often too brief. They are emphemera, at least that's the way the British Civil Service mandarins think of them.

They are right. Politicians are useless. They spout platitudes. They are rarely held responsible for any decisions taken. Invariably they are given two choices by their advisors. A good one, and a bad one. The good one is that preferred by the administrators.

We are all slightly mad, allowing nerds to make decisions that affect all our lives. And we've allowed them to get so entrenched that they can take 50% of all earned income, and still we don't complain. Even we they take us on wars which are nothing to do with us.

It's British administrators who enforce silly European laws, which the rest of Europe happily ignores. It's these people who insist that all boxes are correctly ticked, and never consider anyone to look outside the box.

I had to get outside a big box the other day. I got on a bus with my senior bus card. Presenting it to the driver he said, 'I can't take that. It's out of date.'

So it was, I'd given him last year's card, and not the new one, which had just arrived. 'I've not got any younger,' I said. But he was adamant, and I had to get off the bus, walk home and get the newly-issued card.

Why do I need to renew a senior citizen's bus pass every year? Providing a photograph each time, filling in long forms, providing documentary proof of my age?

Perhaps it's because I look so young?

States

It's like having a twin. The Other Trevor is following in my footsteps, he's now living in Spain, working at property management. I did that once. Hopefully he'll not make the same mistake as me, and come back to Blighty.

Interesting concept: the nation state. I'm not sure how much longer it will last. It's likely that real power will shift towards China over the foreseeable future. Although I published a book a few years ago, one based on the Mayan calendar, which has been running for over 28,000 years. It's full cycle comes to an end soon - not sure if it's 2008 or 2012. The latter would tune in well with the Olympics in London.

The Mayans suggested we would then turn into another life-force, an altered state that no longer required a body. So, prepare to vaporise.

When I last looked at the voter's register there were 26 Trevor Lockwood's registered in the United Kingdom. One lives in the village, Bramford, where my own family were living 200 years ago. We may be related, but will he pay my bills?

We may all be linked as Lockwood, meaning an enclosed wood, is still in Yorkshire. It's now part of Huddersfield. Sherrif Hudder was upset when John Lockwood ran off with his daughter. He chased him for over a year, finally catching up with him. John put up a good fight, killing off most of the posse (yes, they are not an American invention). He was drawing back his bow to finish off Hudder when his beloved mistress cut the bow-string (family ties are stronger than bow-strings).

John picked up his baby, preparing to flee. Hudder shot an arrow that passed through child and man, killing both.

So, none of the known Trevor Lockwood's are direct descendants of poor John of Lockwoode, killed 1215 by Sherrif Hudder, who turned his pasture into a field that took his name (boo hiss).

NIMBY

It was such a lovely day, and my hay fever decided to stay at home, so I spent some time on the allotment this morning. It was glorious. I removed a few weeds, did a little digging, planted the rest of the leeks and took the centre 2-3 bulbs from the shallots. They are often very loose, ready to pick, and removal helps the remaining globes to expand a little more. Replanted some rocket, picked a few raspberries, dug up some potatoes and a couple of beetroot, and the world looked so much better.

Wish that was the case for everyone, but it's not the case. NIMBY is an acronym for Not In My Back Yard, and I keep wondering how I'd react if the Danes or Saxons (Germans), or even the Romans (Italians) suddenly turned up in East Anglia and said that God had given them this land, and as they had lived here hundreds of years ago they were going to take over this land.

I'd not be able to prevent that happening, because World Powers, would support these invaders. I'd be pushed, with the promise that I'd be able to form my own country on the piece of land the invaders didn't want.

My reaction would be 'sod off' you'll have a fight on your hands if you try.

The invader, with World Support, would disregard my protests, and invade more of my land, squashing me in to refugee camps, making me rely upon foreign aid in order to survive.

Somehow I'd be obliged to accept this situation.

Over my dead body.

More butter on your potatoes anyone? You'll need to keep your strength up, I've heard we are going to reclaim France next week.

It gets better

Every day there's a small improvement. Today two people have commented upon my Blog, one suggests that I'm disposable, but I'll cope with that, as the only certaintity in life is that we will all die. Sooner or later? Whenever let's hope we don't know too much about it.

On the longest day we met on the beach (the bit that's not been dredged and sold to Denmark) for a chat, drinks, food and to play a little music. One person spoke in tongues - and we'd like to discover which language she was speaking, as she's always drifting off into this nether world. A linguist living somewhere near Felixstowe would be useful. I suspect it has a middle-eastern origin, but what do I know. What's certain is that it a language, as it has some structure, and phrases are repeated.

It's fascinating, and warrants some investigation. I wonder if it's a breakthrough from another dimension, or a genetic throwback (we have physical characteristics passed through generations, why not other attributes, such as memory)?

Better stop, or those that believe I'm a crank will send the white coats.

Wish someone would invite me to a strawberry tea. It is Wimbledon Fortnight, and although I have little time for tennis (the ball syndrome) I do like strawberries - and tea.

Monday

What a great day of the week. I woke to the sound of rain, the air was fresh, even the hay fever decided to relax.

From some sort of national obligation I watched TV as our football team, England, played Ecuador. I even carried on to see parts of the Portugal and Holland game.

It's depressing. Drunken louts who only find enjoyment from booze and when their team beats another. The media grab hold of an isolated incident, and make it into a crisis. I'm cynical enough to know that the red-top (popular) press will give these silly young men so much beer that they'd do anything. The mob can easily be stirred. It could happen. Although give young Englishmen enough beer and mock courage and they'll believe they can do anything.

There's been so little trouble at the World Cup in football, and it is a World Cup, even the USA fielded a team that was good enough to get to these final stages, that I'm unimpressed with a few plastic chairs being thrown around.

The German police took the right action, rounding up anyone who was causing trouble and locking them up for three days. They missed the game, they missed all the fun before, during and after the match. That's the best punishment there could be. Nobody wants these louts.

There's a part of me that wants England to lose. I'm not sure we need our young people to copy the lying, cheating, over-paid young men who are today's gladiators.

Is there anyone out there?

Once upon a time I had a web site, upon which I displayed well over one million words that I'd cobbled together. Thousands visited the site, but few responded.

That's the great joy of the Net. We are all satisfied by this new democracy. Once we can set aside Mammon, and ignore religious zealots, both of which are impossible ideals, we have the chance to make real choices.

Would you choose to live here? You have the choice. That's a privilege open to all those who have the technology to read Blogs.

If we can get rid of the two snakes: one red, one white, that encircle the earth all day and all night, then the pollution that helped create that sunset will disappear, and you will no longer want to live there.

That's democracy.

Crankiness

An anonymous commentator says my hay fever is caused by crankiness.

Does anyone have a cure for that state?

If not I must stay indoors until the season ends.

No wonder that contributor wants to remain anonymous.

Is the football on yet?

Pass me a tissue.